Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 49490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
I lifted my brows. “Sounds like a date.”
This was usually where he’d punch my biceps, sneer, and change the subject.
Not today.
Today Mateo looked me square in the eye and said, “It’s a date. Seven, okay?”
18
MATEO
My mother stepped onto the stoop with her hands on her hips, surveyed the scene in the alley, and let us have it…in Italian. The gist was, “What do you think you’re doing? We have customers. So many customers! You can’t all be out here. Get your butts inside and get to work and…” and so on and so on.
Yeah, it was probably a good thing my cousins had never learned the language.
I patted Rob’s shoulder—because I couldn’t not touch him—and strode toward my mother. “Leave ’em alone, Ma,” I scolded. “We’ve been going hard for days now. We needed to blow off a little steam.”
Her eagle-eyed gaze landed on Rob and Amber, who waved politely.
“Mrs. C, I have a new herb seasoning for you to try,” Amber called out. “I think it goes well on the everything bagel.”
“I will come over…as soon as these boys put their ball away,” Ma replied in her lilting accent.
“We’re coming, we’re coming,” Sal grumbled, pausing to kiss Ma’s cheek before heading into the restaurant, his brothers trailing behind him. “Let’s go, Teo.”
I didn’t move, though. Truthfully, I was a little worried about Rob. It didn’t take a genius to realize that international interest in our tiny town’s bake-off was taking a toll on him.
I felt protective for reasons unknown and wished I could do or say something to ease his mind. That wasn’t like me. At all. But I couldn’t do anything here. We could talk tonight at my place.
Christ, was that really a date?
What was wrong with me?
“Roberto, I will walk with you,” Ma called to Rob.
Rob cast a curious glance our way and smiled patiently. “Of course.”
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
Ma squeezed my cheeks, then patted them…hard. “I am quizzing your ragazzo. But don’t worry. I will be cool.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I whisper-hissed. “And since when are you cool?”
“I am always cool! You are the moony one. You have starry eyes, and you don’t think I see? Ay, Mateo. I was not born on yesterday. Ciao.”
And with that, she sashayed toward Amber and Rob.
Okay…that could only be trouble.
“Your mom knows about us.”
I stirred the Bolognese sauce simmering on the stove. “Yeah, she thinks you’re hot for me.”
Rob’s blush was instantaneous. “Should I be alarmed?”
“That’s up to you. If you’re worried, you should know my cousins are on to us too.” I set the spoon aside and filled a pot with water.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, but it’s ’cause you laugh at my jokes, and I’m not exactly funny.”
“Laugh at—what?” Rob sputtered. “I don’t laugh. I wouldn’t—”
“Relax. I’m teasing you. They know me, Rob. They know I’m gay, and they know we’re friends. They’ve also noticed how much time we spend together. It’s just a matter of simple deduction.”
“Oh. Right.”
“In fact, one of them probably saw you come upstairs with me thirty minutes ago, and might think that Bolognese is some kind of ‘hanky-panky’ code. Does that bother you?”
“No.” He answered quickly as if he didn’t have to think about it.
“Are you sure? It’s okay if you—”
“I’m very sure.”
“Then what’s bothering you? Maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘date,’ huh? I made it weird. It’s just dinner…and Ma made the sauce, so it’s not like I was slaving over the stove all day for this. I didn’t even clean up. Okay…I did change the sheets, but I was gonna do that anyway. And you’ll notice, I didn’t light any candles or buy flowers. I don’t even think I own a single stupid candle, for fuck’s sake.”
Rob’s lips quirked in amusement. “Are you finished?”
I scrubbed my stubbled jaw, embarrassed by my outburst. “Yeah. Just…tell me what she said.”
Rob moved into my space and leaned on the counter. From this spot, he could view my entire apartment. My place was literally a fraction of the size of Rob’s. His house was light and airy, decorated with the beach-themed prints and ocean-inspired colors a high-end designer had deemed appropriate, while mine was filled with family lore. The sturdy furniture had once belonged to my parents, and the walls were decorated with action photos from ski trips and parties my mom had hung years ago.
I never invited men here. This was a family space. My cousins were downstairs working, my grandparents’ wedding album was on a bookshelf lined with lace my mother had brought with her from the old country. Lace. In a grown man’s apartment. It was hard to explain to most booty calls, but Rob was different.
He understood family and respected traditions that weren’t his own. Which was why I wasn’t overly concerned that my mom had scared him off earlier.
“She discussed herbs with Amber and…uh, she may have given us a few spice tips for our marinara. That’s it.”